


Felled By You, Held By You

by Ben_Solo_Good_Boy_Sweater_Emporium



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Dyad (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Romance, Soulmates, TROS is Terrible, Talking, The Force Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ben_Solo_Good_Boy_Sweater_Emporium/pseuds/Ben_Solo_Good_Boy_Sweater_Emporium
Summary: "They are connected, so profoundly it frightens her.She cares about him, feels drawn to him, wants him.She came here not because the Force willed it, but because the Force permitted it.Rey willed it."Post-TLJ encounter between Rey and and an injured Ben.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 38
Kudos: 152





	Felled By You, Held By You

The pain is shocking. Rey can’t catch her breath. She doubles over, dropping the heavy spanner she’s been using to replace a damaged coupling on the underside of the _Falcon_. She scans herself frantically for a cause. But then she knows the pain is not hers. It’s Ben’s.

Somewhere in the galaxy, Ben is hurt—badly, if the intensity of the feeling is any indication. Rey shouldn’t be upset by this. She hasn’t seen or spoken to him in weeks, not since that horrible day on the _Supremacy_ when he failed her. If anything, she should be pleased. The serious injury, or death, of the Supreme Leader will undoubtedly throw the First Order into chaos. A galactic power vacuum can only benefit the Resistance. She should welcome that, shouldn’t she?

But she isn’t thinking about politics as she stumbles up the ramp into the ship and seals it shut behind her. She only answers to the clawing panic in her chest, the agony in her belly. Questions tear at her. Where is he? Who hurt him? Is someone helping him? She needs to know.

The bond between them has been quiet since they parted ways. Rey slams it open now, sinking to the floor on shaking legs and reaching out for Ben’s singular presence in the Force. Her impressions are confused, frenetic. She’s assaulted by fleeting sensations, the charred edge of a smell, a metallic tang rimming her tongue. It’s difficult to concentrate while she’s gasping.

Finally, her mind brushes Ben’s and they lock together like magnets. He’s in the center of a battle, fighting even now. Rey recoils from the pain, wants only to end it, but Ben embraces it. He’s channeling it into rage and using it as fuel to keep himself going. Rey is buffeted by the torrents of darkness swirling around him. Reality tilts and pitches. She feels unmoored, unable to find any bearing in the storm except him.

Ben’s reaction to her sudden presence in his consciousness—to her palpable fear for him—is surprise. But he can’t allow her to distract him from the attack so he focuses more intently on the ragged hole in his flesh, each nerve ending screaming as he twists and strikes. Rey’s vision blurs. She feels herself sliding forward.

Everything is blackness.

~~~~~

  
She has no idea how much time has passed. The _Falcon_ is silent. Her first, tentative breaths reveal the pain is still present, though lessened. She can sense Ben, but not wild and ferocious as before. He feels removed from her, his energy subdued. She guesses he’s unconscious or sedated in a First Order med bay. But he’s alive. She’s certain of that much.

She considers going to look for Leia. Possibly the general already knows about her son’s wound. Leia is Force-sensitive, after all, and felt the deaths of her husband and brother. But Rey is reluctant to go to her with nothing else to offer, no reassurance that Ben is alright or promise that he’ll recover. She realizes with something like shame that what she wants is that hope for herself.

She has no business worrying about him. They are enemies, on opposite sides of a massive war. Praying for Ben’s recovery is a betrayal of this community with whom she now makes her life. For all Rey knows, the blow the Supreme Leader was dealt today came at the hands of a Resistance sympathizer. It doesn’t seem likely, but she can’t know for sure.

She paces the length of the lounge, impatient to act but unsure what to do. It would be stupid to ask Poe or Finn if the Resistance has received any intelligence, when Rey herself is the most direct conduit to Ben. But she’s afraid. She can admit that much. She’s afraid he won’t want to see her. Afraid he hates her for leaving. Afraid he’s too incapacitated to speak at all.

On Ahch-To, the Force seemed to toss them together at random, regardless of circumstance. But that last night, when they somehow touched, Rey knows that _she_ willed that meeting to happen. Sitting in her hut, drenched to the skin and feeling lonelier than she could ever remember, she had wanted Ben with her. If wanting is the only requirement, she’ll have no trouble reaching him now.

She closes herself into the small bunk room she has claimed. Sliding to the ground, back flush with the wall, Rey calls up a memory of Ben’s face. She considers first the man who looked at her with such compassion in the firelight of Ahch-To. But then she thinks about his intensity on the _Supremacy_ , feral eyes in a face bathed red by the light of his saber. That was when she allowed herself to feel how much she wanted him, all the while knowing she shouldn’t.

The systems of the ship hum and pulse around her, companions so constant she no longer registers them. There’s a nearly imperceptible vibration in the metal floor under her fingertips. The air is warmer and more still here than in the lounge. Rey takes all these observations in and lets them pass by, reaching deeper inside herself to connect with currents of energy that are both grander and subtler. She feels the Force expand within her, and pictures it as a ribbon of light threading across the universe, tethering her to Ben. In her imagination, the ribbon is scarlet and beautiful.

Time seems to stretch and compress simultaneously. The sounds of the _Falcon_ drop away. The air is colder. Her body knows she is somewhere new before her eyes open to confirm it.

For a moment, Rey is frozen. She is sitting on the floor of an unfamiliar room. This hasn’t happened before. Each time she and Ben have connected through the Force, she has only ever seen him appear in her surroundings. She has never _gone_ anywhere. She fleetingly wonders if there are security cameras here, if she can be seen. It can’t be helped now.

The floor under her is solid, as is the leg of the table she is sitting near. She is clearly in some First Order ship or facility. Everything is ugly grey metal, depressingly symmetrical and sterile. The room is dim, despite panel lights running along most of its surfaces. She doesn’t realize that the wall she is staring at is only a partition until she hears a rustle of movement, and a low groan from its other side. She’s found him.

Rey moves cautiously across the room. She senses no one but Ben. She glances around the partition, not wanting to startle him. He’s lying on a bed, tossing fitfully and moaning in his sleep. A wide strip of bacta pads is secured to his bare stomach. The covers have fallen away, leaving him shivering even as sweat plasters strands of hair to his forehead.

Her initial relief at finding him alone morphs into blazing anger. Why is no one here caring for him? Is this the best that can be done for the Supreme Leader of the galaxy? Does the First Order want him to die? Considering what she and Ben did to Snoke and his guards, perhaps that’s exactly what they want.

She perches carefully on the edge of the mattress. The bedding is clammy and cold. She isn’t sure what to do. Rey has no training as a healer. An infection or fever on Jakku was often a death sentence. A curl has fallen over Ben’s eyes and she reaches gingerly to push it back—

Quicker than a nightwatcher worm catching its prey, Ben’s hand shoots out, trapping Rey’s wrist in a painfully tight grip. He isn’t even awake.

“Ben,” she says, prying his long fingers apart, “it’s me. It’s Rey.”

At the sound of her voice, his eyes open. He looks at her, bleary and unfocused. She’s still holding his hand.

“Rey?” He doesn’t seem sure she’s real.

“I thought we had an agreement,” she teases. “No one gets to stab you but me.”

He reaches with his free hand for her face. His fingertips tremble slightly.

“Why aren’t you in a bacta tank?” she asks.

“Just a scratch,” he whispers, voice rough with sleep.

“Rubbish,” she says, somewhat more heatedly than necessary. “I felt it. I still feel it. It’s not a scratch.”

Ben trails his hand from her cheek, down to her stomach. She realizes he is resting lightly on the spot on her body that mirrors his wound. “I couldn’t go in the tank. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” she presses. “Is this some stupid Dark Side thing?”

He’s too worn-out to explain. Instead, he pushes into her mind. She sees the faces of his generals when he was brought in. She feels the cold greediness of their reactions. The opportunity they tasted. A night sedated and defenseless in a bacta tank would have been Ben’s last. Even as Supreme Leader of the galaxy, he is totally alone.

“You’re not alone. I’m here,” she says fiercely.

“Are you?” He winces as he tries to shift in the bed.

“Yes, I am. I’m _actually_ here, Ben. I can see the whole room.” She squeezes his hand. “I can touch you and everything in it.”

This seems to focus his attention. “Really?”

In response, she twists and reaches out. His lightsaber flies over the bed and lands with a dull slap in her hand. She offers it for his inspection.

He touches the metal. “This is new.”

“Are there security cameras in here? I don’t fancy seeing the inside of a First Order detention cell again.”

Ben is still staring at the lightsaber, his face screwed up in concentration. “What? No. There are no cameras in here.”

She tosses the weapon onto a nearby ledge. “Which brings me to my next question: who is monitoring you?”

“Apparently you,” he murmurs, closing his eyes and leaning back on the pillow.

“I’m not a medical droid, Ben. I have no idea what you need.”

He is quiet for a long moment, then says, eyes still closed, “Not true.”

“You’re impossible,” Rey responds, cheeks burning. She starts to stand up, but Ben is suddenly wide awake, holding firmly onto her forearm.

“Don’t go,” he rasps. He looks…afraid?

“I’m not going anywhere,” she reassures him, pushing him gently back to the bed. His shoulders are hot to the touch. She feels his forehead and cheeks. “You’re burning up.” She tries not to think about the way he sighs into her palm.

She finds a carafe in the next room, and a cloth she can soak in cold water. She makes him drink, then passes the cloth over his face and shoulders. The whole time, Ben is watching her so intently that she feels her own skin flush. She straightens the bed covers to give herself something else to look at.

“So what happened?” she demands finally, when she can think of no other tasks to accomplish. “Who stabbed you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. His voice sounds a bit clearer, more present. She takes that as a hopeful sign.

“Indulge me. If I’m to play nursemaid, you can at least entertain me while I’m doing it.”

“I was clearing out a cell of Alazmec on Mustafar,” he admits and at her blank look, adds, “Sith cultists.”

“Are they Force users?”

“They wish,” he scoffs.

“Then how did they manage to hurt you so badly?”

“I was outnumbered.” Rey has a fleeting memory of howling creatures engulfing her—no, Ben. There are scores of them.

“Were you there alone?”

“Not entirely. A few of the generals were observing.”

“But you fought the battle alone.”

“Essentially.”

“Do I need to point out that you have an entire galactic military infrastructure at your command? Why would you ever put yourself in danger like that?”

He doesn’t answer. She feels a complicated knot of emotions inside him. He’s proud, obviously. And stubborn. But it’s more than that. Rey thinks again of the treacherous generals. “You wanted them to know what you can do. That you’re capable of protecting yourself and hanging on to power. You wanted to impress them. Or at least keep them in line.”

He looks at her tiredly. “So much for that plan.”

Rey can’t help it. She laughs. “Impossible man,” she repeats. She can’t disguise the affection in her voice. “Will anyone be coming to check on you? Should I be prepared to hide under the bed?”

Ben’s lip quirks in amusement. He gestures to the closest wall panel. “I told the droid to come back in the morning. I said I would comm if I needed anything.”

“And in this second brilliant plan of the day, did you account for what might happen if you got a fever or became otherwise incapable of comming in the middle of the night?”

His expression softens. He reaches for her fingers, splayed on the covers. “I’ve never been very good at planning anything, Rey. Clearly I need a partner.”

It strikes her powerfully just how peaceful and domestic it feels between them right now. _Stars_ , she’s fetching him glasses of water and taking his temperature, all the while chiding him to be more cautious when he next goes off to the battlefield. How very easily she could fall into this life, of caring and being cared for.

_Yes,_ a voice taunts deep inside, _you can share his meals and warm his bed while his armies slaughter your friends._ She slides her fingers out from under his. “I’m not cut out to be a nursemaid,” she jokes uncomfortably, and it falls flat.

Ben’s hurt is evident. She doesn’t even need the Force to read his emotions. He broadcasts everything he’s feeling on his face. No wonder he always wears that hateful mask.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

“What do you mean? You’re hurt. I felt you get hurt.”

“So what? Why do you care?” He doesn’t sound angry, exactly. More like exasperated.

“Why do I—? How could I not care? I _felt_ it, Ben.”

“Why are you still calling me Ben?” he asks, looking at her sharply.

“Because it’s your name,” she fires back. She’s getting irritated.

“That’s not why you do it,” he retorts, shaking his head in disbelief. “Stop lying to yourself, Rey.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know,” he says, trying again to change positions and grunting in discomfort. “I’m tired. You can go.” He closes his eyes. It’s a clear dismissal.

She’s astonished. “I can go? You arrogant, entitled…sleemo!”

“Ouch,” he deadpans.

“I don’t believe this! I risk my life coming into First Order headquarters to make sure you’re alright…”

“Why?” he barks. “Why was your first instinct to make sure I’m alright, Rey? Why didn’t you run and tell all your Resistance friends to mount an attack while the Supreme Leader was out of commission? Why were you so concerned that you were able not only to connect with me, but somehow _physically manifest_ halfway across the galaxy? Why did you come to the _Supremacy_? Why do you insist on thinking of me as Ben? It’s because you and I are bonded, Rey. We’re connected in the Force more strongly than any two people I have ever heard or read about. But it’s more than that. You feel about me the same way I feel about you. You’re just too cowardly to admit it.” He’s panting with the effort of arguing. His head slumps back against the pillow. “Or maybe you aren’t even here. Maybe this is just another dream. Maybe I’m delirious and Hux is having a good laugh at my expense.”

It’s the casual mention that he dreams about her that pierces Rey’s fury. She dreams about him, too. But he’s right. She is too cowardly to admit it. She’s about to get up when she notices the crimson streaks trailing from Ben’s bandages into the sheets.

“You’re bleeding,” she says, grabbing the still-damp cloth to staunch the flow.

“Just leave, Rey.” He pushes her hand back. “I’ll get the droid to come change the pads.”

She smacks him as if he were a grasping child, startling him enough that she can lift the closest pad. The thin layer of bacta is clearly making little headway against the wound, which is fairly gruesome. She can see now that he has been bleeding freely the entire time she's been here, but the dark color of the linens made it difficult to see. She reaches under Ben’s back—he jolts at the contact—and raises fingers streaked bright red. The mattress beneath him is soaked. The panic Rey felt in the _Falcon_ comes roaring back.

“These pads aren’t going to keep you from bleeding out,” she argues. “You need to be in a bacta tank.” He’s shaking his head before she even finishes the sentence. “You’re afraid they’ll assassinate you, so you prefer to die here?” He says nothing.

A desperate idea strikes her. “I’ll come with you and stand guard. I’ll have your saber. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

He’s looking at her like she’s insane—how would they ever explain her presence on the ship?—but there is something else in his eyes. He’s touched that she is offering.

“Maybe I could figure out a way to bring you back with me…” she begins vaguely.

“Rey,” he interrupts. “Stop.” Why hasn’t she noticed how pale he is? He looks exhausted.

“Go back to the Resistance,” he says quietly. “It’s not your job to fix me.” There’s a resignation in his voice that is terrifying.

“I’m not leaving you,” she insists.

“You already did,” he points out. He’s genuinely confused.

“That was different! I didn’t _want_ to be queen of the universe, Ben. I didn’t want any of it. I just wanted—” She stops so abruptly they both hear her jaw snap shut.

He doesn’t say a word. It feels like a test, like walking a knife’s edge. If she can’t admit how she feels, he will send her away tonight and then…

“I just wanted you,” she whispers.

All at once, she knows what to do.

She’s been trying to study the old books she took from Ahch-To. Mostly, they’re incomprehensible. But with Threepio’s help in translating, she’s been able to read a little about using the Force to heal. She hasn’t attempted it, even on herself. But nothing will make her leave this room until she knows Ben is going to live.

Rey climbs fully onto the mattress, situating herself so she can place both hands over him. He’s too astonished to protest.

She closes her eyes and thinks about what he’s just said. He’s right, on every count. They are connected, so profoundly it frightens her. She cares about him, feels drawn to him, wants him. She came here not because the Force willed it, but because the Force permitted it. Rey willed it.

A curious sort of heat is kindling in her hands. She pictures again the beautiful ribbon, scarlet as his blood. She sees it twining around her wrists, weaving through her fingers like silk, flowing down to wrap around Ben’s body and tie him to her. Rey pushes the heat in her hands through the ribbon, flooding the terrible hollow space inside him with Light. She is dimly aware that Ben is taking great, heaving breaths. She urges the Light in, to fill him and protect him, this impossible man who has more power over her than she has ever allowed any other. She rides a great surge of emotion. It’s hard to put into words. She thinks of something she read in the books. _Passion, yet serenity._

There’s a gentle touch on her thigh. She comes back into herself to find Ben staring at her. He sits up slowly. He looks thunderstruck. “How did you learn to do _that_?”

Rey traces the line of his collarbone that once bore a deep scar from her lightsaber. A scar no longer there. “I think I overdid it,” she confesses.

She sways a little, feeling altogether insubstantial. Ben pulls her into his arms and lays them both back down on the bed. His lips are warm against her temple.

“Are you alright?”

“I think so. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay much longer. That was…a lot.”

Is he laughing? It’s hard to believe but his chest rumbles pleasantly beneath her. “I almost wish you could be here to see Hux’s face when he sneaks in later to try and finish the job.”

“Not funny.”

“He will certainly agree.”

“How will you explain your recovery?”

“The Force moves in mysterious ways,” he says lightly, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. It’s not a lie.

“So the generals still get a demonstration of your power.” Maybe she ought to feel conflicted about staving off a First Order coup, but she doesn’t. Ben is safe, at least for now.

“Your power,” he corrects. Her heart glows at the pride in his voice.

“I give you permission to take all the credit.” She’s so drained her words are slurring. “Ben, I think I’m going to fall asleep. And when I do…”

“You’ll go back,” he finishes. She tries to nod, but just ends up nuzzling into his neck. He smells like salt and smoke and yearning, so misplaced in this bleak metal box.

“How did you do it?” he asks suddenly. “Rey, how did you get here?”

“Not sure I should tell you. Can’t have the Supreme Leader popping up in the Resistance base.”

He takes her teasing seriously. “I just thought we could talk more,” he offers. “I miss talking to you.”

There is something so sweet, and achingly lonely, in the words. It makes her want to give him something to hold onto when she is gone.

She breathes into his skin, “I reached for you through the bond, and I thought about how, more than anything else in this life, I wanted to be where ever you are.” She feels the current of happiness that passes through him, like a ripple over clear water.

“Thank you,” Ben says against her lips as he kisses her softly.

He’s still holding her when she falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a spectacular lyric from Hozier's "NFWMB." (Stop what you are doing and listen to it [RIGHT NOW](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=We-mIWLT5DI).)
> 
> Canon-compliant through TLJ, then all bets are off because TROS was a nightmare.
> 
> Note: in this universe, Force healing is NOT a zero-sum game. Your reward for helping others is not death.


End file.
